into so even a course of life that they might have been there for months. The only break in the steady pace was that early Friday when Dr Fabre returned. He viewed Captain Aubrey with approval and listened conscientiously to the effect of the potions, boluses and pills; but he was a sad young man, almost distracted, almost overwhelmed with unhappiness, for he had received orders to join the 107th Regiment of the line somewhere in the gloomy wastes of northern Europe, in a town whose name he could not even pronounce. Unless he could obtain a most improbable exemption his nascent practice was ruined. He had been hurrying about among all the influential men he knew, however remotely, in the hope of their good word. He had seen Dr Larrey, and he was most grateful for having been able to use Dr Maturin's name as an introduction to his own plea: indeed, Dr Maturin's name had been most valuable to him as he made his rounds - they all remembered him. Dr Dupuytren, Dr Baudelocque ...They were all deeply concerned at Dr Maturin's predicament -were convinced it was an administrative error and that it would soon be set right - would make representations in the proper quarters - offered their services if there were material difficulties of any kind. And Dr Baudelocque had given Fabre a message about the American patient: his misgivings had been confirmed, and he was by no means sure that the foetus was viable. There was a history of prolonged, violent seasickness, and that might be one of the causes; but in any event, Dr Baudelocque could not be at all confident that the lady would arrive at term.
'Just as well,' observed Stephen. 'There are far, far too many children as it is.'
'Oh, surely, sir ...' cried Dr Fabre, who had five, with another due in a few weeks' time.
'Surely, sir,' said Stephen, 'no thinking man will deliberately entail life upon still another being in this overcrowded world perpetually at war?'
'Perhaps, sir,' suggested Fabre, 'not all children are deliberately begotten?'
'No,' said Stephen. 'If men were to consider what they were at - if they were to look about them, and reflect upon the cost of life in a universe where prisons, brothels, madhouses, and regiments of men armed and trained to kill other men are so very common - why, I doubt we should see many of these poor mewling little larval victims, so often a present misery to their parents and a future menace to their kind.'
Tears gathered in the young man's eyes; but recollecting himself he put his hand to his pocket and said, 'Here are the ampullae you asked for.'
'Thank you, thank you, dear colleague,' said Stephen, taking them carefully in their wooden box - they were for his own private use, for his more certain exit in case of need - 'I am very much obliged to you.'
'Not at all,' said Fabre, and he took his leave, saying that he doubted whether he should ever have the happiness of seeing Dr Maturin or his companions again.
They did not see him again, and the weeks flowed by in such a calm monotony that presently the charged ampullae came to seem absurd.
The long, even days were marked by a steady thumping, by the whistles of foremen, by the distant crash of falling masonry and the cries of workmen as they demolished parts of the ancient building out of sight; the nights were perfectly calm, with never a sound but the murmur of the city like a distant sea and the deep bell of St Theodule's telling the hour. No hint of footsteps overhead, no sound from either side. They might have been alone in that great tower: they might even have been at sea, as far as their isolation was concerned; and there was something nautical about their small living-space and in the way they became so soon acquainted with it. On the other hand, the quality of their food was not nautical at all, oh far, far from it.
From that very first cup of coffee, the widow Lehideux gave the utmost satisfaction; her meals quickly became part of their daily pattern, and their chief diversion. She was very willing to do her best and she sent little beautifully-written, badly-spelt notes with suggestions according to the state of the market; and to these Stephen replied with comments on the last dish and recommendations, even receipts, for the next. 'It is only a woman's cookery, to be sure,' he said, toying with a chocolate mousse, 'and I do not know that I should trust her with game; but within these wide limits, how very good it is! She must be a knowing old soul, with great experience, no doubt in excellent service before the Revolution. Perhaps something of a slut: your amiable slut makes the best of cooks.'
Their daily life, though confined and dull, might have been very much more disagreeable. It quickly assumed an ordered shape: Jack did not exactly organize them into watches, but he showed them how the place could be brought to something like naval cleanliness with nothing but the most primitive means and a mere three sweepings in the course of the day. His pupils were sluggish, inept, reluctant, even sullen at times, and they particularly disliked hanging their blankets and their pallet-beds from Jagiello's window, piling all the sparse furniture into a pyramid, and swilling the floor before breakfast; but his moral force, his conviction that this alone was right, overcame them, and the rooms grew inoffensive at least, so much so that the former prisoner's tame mouse became uneasy and disappeared for three days. It lived behind the locked door in Jack's room and it came out of its hole in time for their first breakfast: though hesitant and confused at finding its friend gone and strangers sitting at the familiar table, it had accepted a piece of croissant and a little coffee held out at arm's length in a spoon; it sat with them while they discussed the methods of dealing with the surrounding filth, and all seemed well until the unfortunate orgy of scrubbing. The mouse did come back in time, however, and Stephen noticed with concern that it was gravid: he ordered cream - cream was eminently medicinal in pregnancy.
It did not need the mouse nor her condition to bring Diana to his mind; she was there a great deal of the time; but it did tend to bring these wandering thoughts - recollections of her in former days, riding over the English countryside with singular grace and spirit; images of her in India, at the Institut, in the streets of Paris- to a sharper focus. Diana would be well provided with cream. Would she also be provided with a lover, with a plurality of lovers? It was probable; he had scarcely known a time when it was not so, and the atmosphere of Paris was ideally suited to such things. Yet he found himself curiously unwilling to dwell on the subject; he preferred to think of the solitary huntress he had once known.
Order and cleanliness were the first things in Jack's day, but they were very far from being uppermost in his mind. Their first dinner had not arrived, the floor was scarcely dry, before he was looking about for means of escape in spite of the sickness that had made the others insist upon his taking the one good bed, while Stephen urged him to return to it.
Although the prospect was not encouraging - a sheer drop to the moat, an apparently impossible wall beyond it, and according to Stephen's recollection of a visit to the Temple in his youth, covered ways barring the moat on either hand, out of their sight - Jack found that others had been there before him: some patient hand had picked and picked at the setting of the bars in Jagiello's window, gnawing deeply but ineffectually into the stone; another had actually sawn through one of the twenty-four pieces of iron, hiding the cut with grease; indeed, an eye that searched with greater eagerness than any gaoler could find countless signs of their predecessors' passionate desire for freedom. Yet it seemed to him that most of them had set about it in the wrong way. Even if one had the tools one could not work on the bars without risk of detection; they could be seen from the judas-holes, and there was no telling when a patrol might come round: Rousseau and his mates wore list slippers, and they were rarely heard until the key was in the lock. The privy was far more promising: its projecting floor consisted of two spans of stone resting on corbels either side, with the necessary space between them; and if they could be removed the way was clear. The way down, at all events. Unfortunately they were built in the lavish medieval fashion, regardless of weight, and they were sealed into the masonry on either side with molten sulphur; but there was at
